


Skeleton

by ViktoryKill



Series: The Mission X Chronicles [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Coincidences, Developing Friendships, Getting to Know Each Other, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Other, Out of Character, Social Issues, lance is lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViktoryKill/pseuds/ViktoryKill
Summary: "He'd tried to be reasonable about it. Most likely, there was some good cause for her to leave. It wasn't him, because at the end of the day, he hadn't been old enough yet to make her hate him. If she'd walked out on him now, yeah, he could understand."Keith hates the new training squad he's been assigned to, where he's forced to train and live with others. And who should be there but Lance, who tries to be his friend.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Series: The Mission X Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894618
Kudos: 8





	Skeleton

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, no sir. They were conceived long before I was.

Keith sighed as he looked down at the white tiles beneath his sneakers. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and a sheen of water glistened on his face and hair, dripping to the floor.

He wasn't sure how to feel about his current situation. For so long, he'd been at the Galra training headquarters, preparing for his ultimate test on Planet Mech; and while he was there, he'd pretty much been able to do whatever he liked between sessions.

Perhaps this was for everyone. Or maybe they'd given him special treatment because he blew the rest of the trainees out of the water.

He didn't know and frankly he hadn't cared. He was just glad he could go up to his room and listen to music, or look at the ceiling, or just think in precious solitude for hours on end, and no one would bother him or even ask why he wasn't hanging out with the others.

And the missions he was assigned to? Generally, they were always solo projects, the ones he loved the most.

Looking back on it, maybe they _were_ babying him some - forming things around his desires and strengths. True, the solo missions were the most difficult, because you had to handle multiple threats by yourself, with no back-up for emergencies. At any time, something unplanned could come and leave you severely injured or dead if you weren't skilled enough, or just not fast enough on your toes.

So no, babying wouldn't be the right term.

But they were definitely making things easier for him, ironically. Less stressful. Honestly, he'd rather risk dying alone in the middle of space than try to fuck around with a team effort. Teams had to rely on each other, often trusting each other with their lives. He hated that.

The woman who had given him life, the one who was supposed to be there for him more than anyone, had walked out on him. Just left.

He'd tried to be reasonable about it. Most likely, there was some good cause for her to leave. It wasn't him, because at the end of the day, he hadn't been old enough yet to make her hate him. If she'd walked out on him now, yeah, he could understand.

He was weird, aloof, slow as hell when it came to the good emotions in life.

Someone told him a joke? He didn't get it.

Someone was trying to engage in playful banter? He was not amused.

Someone gave him a nice surprise? He asked them why, and completely forgot to thank them until days after.

It made him a fucking toss to be around and he knew it. Did he care? Not really. The last thing he wanted to be was a social butterfly, and if his attitude drove people away from him, that was fine. Kinda nice, actually.

But really. Had he ever even stood a chance of being... normal?

Yeah, he tried to be reasonable about his mother, but the key word was _tried_. Deep down he knew it was his fault.

She hadn't wanted him to begin with. It must've been some kind of accident, and she hated him just for existing. And as he got a bit older, old enough to show some of his future colors, she knew what he was going to be. She knew he'd turn out like this.

And she wanted to be far, far away from him, long before it happened. 

She knew he wasn't a real Galra. Nor was he a real human being. He was just a skeleton. A husk. 

Keith sighed. He hadn't meant to go down that rabbit hole again. He hated thinking about his childhood, because it was in the past and he didn't think it mattered. But every time he lingered there, he found himself feeling pissed. Still it was only natural, given that he was out of his comfort zone for the first time in a long while.

He'd been assigned to a training squad. A bloody fucking training squad, where students shared rooms and facilities and worked together every single day. Hell, he'd been lucky to even get to shower alone, that's how much everyone was cloistered together.

No one else seemed to have much of a problem with this. There was always talking, laughing, hang-outs, games. Fighting together, learning together, marching together towards a collective goal - all the dudes seemed to love it.

Except Keith. Because, in the words of his fucking guidance counsellor back in eighth grade: "He's a discipline problem. An anti-authoritarian figure, who expresses his frustrations in violence and disobedience. He doesn't want to blend in with the crowd; he can't just be like everybody else."

Over-complicating the matter if he ever heard it. He had no problem with authority, really. If what they said made sense, he'd roll with them.

_**He just wanted to be left alone.** _

He didn't care if he blended in or not, or if he was "different" - what kind of insane tuppenware logic was that?

"Are you okay there, bud?"

Oh shit. It was Lance.

The hot-shot pilot who, despite being only fifth in the sector, was pretty much the apple of everyone's eye. Supervisors liked him, the students liked him. He wasn't the best at what he did, but he was definitely making the most out of every flight and every mission. You couldn't not admire that.

And Keith did admire him for that. He kinda felt jealous, sometimes, that he wasn't having such a good time. That he wasn't full of the same life and vivacity. 

But far above his admiration was his loathing for the dude, because he was the only person in the building who hadn't come to the conclusion that Keith was a "loner emo wack-arse" who should be avoided unless you were making fun of him.

Lance was always trying to be friendly, trying to get Keith to talk to him. Couldn't he understand body language? The kind that loudly shouts "leave-me-the-fuck-alone"?

"I'm not worth the time. And I don't want to fucking talk to you." Keith wanted to say those words. They were just self-deprecating enough to not be completely spiteful. He could get away with saying that, for sure. 

But the words wouldn't come. He just stood there, glaring at Lance like a wolf that's been starved for months.

"You look kind of mad, is all." Lance went on cheerfully, completely ignoring Keith's glowing red aura of irritation. "Maybe you'll feel better after you eat."

Keith groaned inwardly. The three mandatory mealtimes (which, once again, were communal), were currently the deepest scourge on his existence. He liked eating when he felt like it, not at strictly regimented hours of the day.

And getting the right amount of calories so the meter around his ankle would register properly - damn, it grated on his last nerve.

"Right," he sighed, trying not to breathe acid. "Sure." He charged forward, hoping to lose Lance's company. But Lance followed him. 

"So, what are you gonna get? I was thinking a hamburger and some fries. They make great burgers here. Awesome." Lance said it casually, swingingly, as if he were talking to someone who actually wanted to be there.

"Mmm-hmm," Keith mumbled, walking faster and faster. He didn't know what Lance had said, and he didn't care. He wanted to fucking lose him, get away from the situation.

"You oughta try 'em," said Lance, easily keeping up with Keith by lengthening his strides. "I mean, salads and water crackers are okay if you're a bird, but I mean, come on. Sometimes a guy needs to eat real food, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"Uh-huh," said Keith.

They were in the cafeteria now, where the bustle and bright lights overhead, and the smell of all kinds of foods made for a chaotic atmosphere.

"Can I take your order?" said the dude behind the counter. 

"Um -" started Keith, squinting at the menu.

"Two cheeseburgers, two large fries, a double whammy milkshake, and a box of nuggets thank you." said Lance, winking when Keith looked at him in surprise.

"Of course." said the dude.

Minutes later, Keith and Lance were sitting at the table furthest in the corner, eating a meal that looked big enough for three.

Keith couldn't stop staring at the painting in the corner, where a window would ordinarily be. It was of infinite space, supposedly, but someone had drawn a moustache on it and it now looked like a disturbing but oddly fascinating face.

"Do you like it?" Lance asked, after a moment, pointing at all the food on the table.

"Yeah." said Keith. It wasn't a lie. He hadn't had anything this solid in a long time. And he was a lot hungrier than he'd realized.

"Good. Maybe now you'll ditch all that rabbit food and start looking less like a store mannequin. Ya think?" Lance teased.

"Yeah, whatever," said Keith through a bunch of fries.

"Boy, you've really been starving yourself, huh?" Lance said with wide eyes, as Keith went on wolfing down his food without a sign of slowing.

Keith just grunted for an answer.

When he'd finished all his food and drained the last of the milkshake - which was pretty fucking great, what with the thick cream and the chocolate strawberries and all - he felt oddly relieved. He could feel strength coming back into his body, something he'd been missing for a couple of days now.

"Hey, uh..." he said, looking at Lance. "Thanks...?"

He wasn't sure if it made sense to say it under these circumstances. It just sounded a bit off, a bit formal. Or like he was on a date, ilk.

But Lance just grinned. "Any time, man," he said. "Wanna go watch some TV or something? It's kinda archaic, sure, but you can still find some cool stuff from channels in the archive."

Keith thought about it. He'd seen a lot of old stuff; searching the Galact-Net for ancient broadcasts was one of his favorite past-times as a kid. But he'd never seen any of it on an actual television.

"Okay," he said.

* * *

He watched the light flicker on the small screen, and noted how old the TV actually was - probably 1990s-era, if not older. Amazing. The colors he was seeing right now were being filtered through tubes. Actual, physical tubes.

But Lance, who was a fan of old things, particularly in the '90s and early 2000s, didn't bat an eye. "Wanna watch the weather channel? See what was cooking weather wise in 1997?" he asked.

"Sure," said Keith, expecting an in-depth exploration, the kind you'd see nowadays. But instead he just saw white text against a blue background, with a couple of visuals here and there, and heard soft synth music. 

Maybe another time he would've said, "Fuck this" and walked away, but right now he felt kind of sleepy, and the music was actually nice. Mellow.

His eyes started to close. He completely forgot Lance was sitting not two feet away from him, and he started nodding off.

"Keith?"

" _Keith_?"

" **Keith?** "

The insistent nattering made him jerk awake.

"Huh?" he said, confused; then realized he'd actually fallen asleep for a minute. "Shit, I need to go to bed," he said, stifling a yawn. "I guess I'm tired."

"Already? But it's only like, 7:30!" said Lance, projecting a clock onto the wall.

Keith shook his head. "I know." He got to his feet, stretching his arms to the ceiling.

"Okay, okay," sighed Lance, seeing that Keith wasn't about to be swayed in his decision to leave. "Wanna hang out again later?"

"No."

And without another word, Keith walked out.

Lance listened to his footsteps echo against the metal walls in the hallway, then shrugged his shoulders.

He and Keith weren't on the best of terms. Hardly a surprise, given the way they'd met, but then again, Keith was like this to everyone. 

But none of it really bothered Lance. Sure, it was a bit awkward, a bit off-putting. A bit creepy, even, at times.

But Lance was sure he'd get through to Keith someday. The way fate had knocked them together convinced him they had to be friends.

What were the odds, really, of them meeting each other on that uncharted planet in the middle of who knows where?

And then, what were the odds of both of them getting sent to the same training school at the same time, where they got teamed together and pitted against each other 99 times out of 100?

But Lance didn't care so much about the coincidence, or the fate of it. All he knew was that Keith seemed kind of cool and he wanted to get to know him. There was something about the barrier in front of the dude. That barrier of aloofness, and cold indifference. 

Lance wanted to break it down, see what lay behind it. Maybe Keith was some kind of psycho, and behind one layer was another, even worse layer. Or maybe he was secretly a soft li'l cream-of-corn waiting to get stamped on. Either way, Lance was determined to find out.


End file.
